The unconscious mind is decidedly simple, unaffected, straightforward, and honest. It hasn’t got all of this facade, this veneer of what we call adult culture. It’s rather simple, rather childish. It’s direct and free.

This is a true revolution, Poetic first, because it denies poetry by transcending it. The arrangement as a poem is banished in favor of the automatic text, the dictation of the unconscious, the dream narrative. No concern for art, for beauty. Those are paltry goals, unworthy of attention. The poet’s soul is what it is.